


Old embers are the last to fade

by Tan_lines



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Chuck Shurley is God, Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Deviates From Canon, Drama, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growth, I don't ship saileen sorry, No Smut, Non-Sexual, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Trauma, Traumatized Sam Winchester, so much sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tan_lines/pseuds/Tan_lines
Summary: Chuck (God) is still 'on the loose' after trying and failing to rid Sam of his hope. But there was no spell, and the Winchesters have no idea what to do next.Meanwhile, Jessica Moore wakes up in a field just outside Lebanon, Kansas.(Spoilers up to 15x09 before Canon divergence)
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. No one likes early November

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for my first fandom... phew! This might be awkward, but here we go anyway.
> 
> (Yes, I have no idea how to do any of this so any feedback is very welcome!)

Jessica Moore woke up in a field.

The first thing she noticed was the cold. She was still in the nightclothes she had worn when she had gone to bed in California. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. 

For a moment all she felt was confusion, then panic spread like ice from the tips of her fingers all the way to her chest. She resisted the part of her mind that was trying to tug her back into unconsciousness and struggled to control her frantic thoughts and uneven breaths.

In and out she breathed, eyes closed. She couldn’t freak out if she was in danger, she just needed to calm down and figure out what was going on. 

_ Okay _ , she thought, mind racing.  _ Somehow, you were moved from your comfy bed in your apartment in Palo Alto to a strange clearing in the middle of nowhere… without waking up.  _

Images of chloroform soaked rags and tall men wearing ski masks assaulted her psyche. Once more taking deep, calming breaths, she decided that the best move in her current situation was to figure out if she was hurt or tied up.

Standing without difficulty, she brushed dust off her thighs and palms. Thankfully, she thought, she didn’t seem to be hurt, which was priority #1. The next thing, which was sort of obvious at this point, was that she wasn’t tied up or restrained in any way.  _ Well, _ she mused,  _ at least that probably means this isn’t a kidnapping.  _

Unfortunately, her assessment didn’t answer her more pressing questions. Like where was she? And  **why** ? Kidnapping for ransom would be the most reasonable explanation, but the information she had gathered and a gut feeling told her it wasn’t anything as simple as that. One thing she noted gladly, she didn’t feel drugged at all. Confused and scared as hell, yes. But drugged? Whatever had been used to get her wherever this was, it must have worn off.

_ So _ , she continued as logically as possible,  _ I’m not hurt, restrained or drugged. Now I just need to figure out where I am _ . 

She shivered once more and looked around. There wasn’t much to go on at all. She knew it was November, but she also knew Palo Alto didn’t get this cold, and she didn’t recognize the flora. So not California then. That left her with few options. Squinting through the thick foliage, she was just able to make out the hazy outline of what could’ve been some part of a building. 

Surrounded by nothing but grass, dirt and trees, and no one else in sight, Jess decided that her absolute best option was to make it to whatever she saw through the trees. Taking another deep breath she stepped forward. She winced as she realized that she was barefoot. She grit her teeth and pushed on, trying her best to ignore the horrible combination of pain and cold as the branches whipped at her cheeks.

She needed a distraction. Anything but...  _ Sam _ ! Her mind screamed at her. She resisted the urge to slap herself. When she had gone to sleep she knew that he was going to be getting in. After All, it was Sunday night, and he had his interview on Monday. She had even baked him cookies. God, she was stupid, he was probably worried sick! 

She had almost forgotten how protective he could be. He never told her much about his past, when she asked he would just shrug and smile, saying he moved around a lot. But when she had missed the first bus from class, and had gotten home over two hours late because of it, she had found him nearly pulling his hair out from worry. He had refused to let her go the whole night, and had insisted on driving her from then on. She smiled sadly at the memory. She had always wondered why he was so scared, always looking over his shoulder and hers. 

Jess didn’t like bad boys, hell if anyone besides Sam had asked her out without a full family history, references and a background check she would’ve turned him down. But Sam, even with all his secrets, was just so kind and sweet, and she couldn’t deny that look of his that made her heart melt every time he used it. Zach and Brady had called it his ‘puppy dog look’.

Jesus, thinking of Sam hadn’t really distracted her in the way she hoped it would’ve. Now her heart hurt along with her feet and face.  _ Just get to the thing _ , she thought.  _ Get there, find a person or a phone and find out where the hell you are _ . 

Another scary thought invaded her mind. She really didn’t know what day it was either. It had to have been less than a week judging by the fact that her clothes were only dirty from the ground she woke up on and she wasn’t hungry. Although she was getting thirsty. Sighing, she kept going. 

It was nearly half an hour before she could begin to make out what she had seen. Of course, she didn’t have a watch so it was hard to tell, but it felt like she had been walking for a while. 

It looked to be some sort of low, concrete building, and there was a gravelly dirt road leading up to it. She saw stairs and a large, round metal door set into the wall. 

_ Oh God, please let there be people _ , she prayed silently.  _ And let them not be psychopaths _ , she added.

With barely a thought to her conspicuous outfit, she knocked once on the door, as hard as she could. She was both relieved and nervous when she heard a shuffling behind the door. It opened slowly, creaking loudly like it had the oldest hinges in the world.

It was not a face she had expected to see, not at all.

For a moment, she re-thought her earlier assessment that she was not drugged. The man in front of her looked scarily similar to the Dean Winchester she had seen only a few days before, but much older and more worn down. 

It almost made her feel better when he looked back at her with an equally, if not more shocked expression. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. 

Then she heard it. 

The sound was too deep, strange and wrong. But oh so familiar. It struck her to the core.

“Dean? Who is it?”

She barely felt strong arms wrap around her as her vision blurred and she fell into unconsciousness. 


	2. This household is agnostic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam recalls his experience with Chuck, and the Bunker gets an unexpected visitor.

Sam had been staring at the same pages for three hours and eleven minutes.

Research was pointless. There was nothing in the Bunker that would tell them how to defeat _God_ of all things. He would know, he cataloged it. 

But he needed a distraction. Oh he needed a distraction. Anything to not think about the aching wound in his shoulder, Chuck’s haunting words…

2 days earlier 

Eileen cried as she twisted the small knife further into Sam’s shoulder. He ground his teeth together, he didn’t want her to hear him scream. He was used to the pain. It was easy, familiar, normal for him in his fucked up existence. After all, God himself was torturing him. 

A flickering thought crossed his mind through the pain, and he would have laughed if his jaw wasn’t locked tight. _I guess Lucifer surpassed his Father in one way_. He mused to himself. This torture was nothing compared to the Cage, to the Wall, hell even Lady Bevell had caused him more physical pain than this.

But Chuck was using Eileen, and he was trying to crush his hope. Sam was surprised that _hope_ of all things was what was keeping his wound open and festering. He thought he had lost it years ago. He thought he had lost it when his dad died, when Dean went to Hell, when he started the Apocalypse, when he was soulless, when his wall fell, when he almost completed the trials, when he had let himself be possessed by _another_ angel, when he released the Darkness, when he lost Jack… every time he solved a problem his life was thrown into chaos with something even worse than before, and it was all Chuck’s doing. 

Sam wasn’t hopeful, he was _pissed_ , and he was destroyed. Time and time again. Sometimes he looked in the mirror and wondered how he wasn’t shattered into a million pieces. Hell, half the time he barely recognized himself. He would stare into his own eyes and see Lucifer or Gadreel or even Meg. On his bad days, when he woke up from one of his many nightmares, sometimes he would stand in front of his mirror and he would dig his fingernails into his palms just to make sure his fingers were still his to control. He just felt lost.

So when Chuck called back Eileen with an exasperated huff and a roll of his eyes, Sam wasn’t surprised. If all that hadn’t stripped him of his hope he didn’t know what could. He didn’t even know what hope felt like anymore.

“Well Sam, seems like sweet Eileen here just isn’t enough for you. Not surprised really, good chemistry but not enough time. I blame myself for not seeing it sooner.”

Sam barely registered his words. _Dean would be here soon, Dean was coming, Dean had a plan_.

“You are difficult Sam, I’ll give you that. Always so certain, so convicted. It made the story interesting, but now it’s getting on my nerves.”

Chuck flicked his hand carelessly, and Eileen dropped the knife, slowly walking to the bathroom.

“So if something new didn’t work, we’ll just have to go with old school, classic Sam.”

Chuck crouched down so his nose was almost touching Sam’s, his breath was hot and stale.

“I’ve wasted enough time being subtle. My son may have broken your body and twisted your mind under his care, but when I’m done Sammy, you’ll be nothing but an empty shell. A vessel for my perfect ending. But you’re used to being a vessel aren’t you Sam?”

Chuck put his hand on Sam’s wounded shoulder, digging into it with his thumb, pressing down to emphasize his words.

“You know, sometimes you and Dean remind me of an old friend. I believe you’ve met once or twice, though the title has diminished with it’s new owner.”

Sam wondered where he was going with this. He must've been talking about Death, about Billie.

“You know, I wasn’t as active as you think. Sure I pulled a few key strings but there were things that surprised even me. Like how everyone around you dies…”

Sam just kept staring at the floor.

“Everyone you love. Hell, most of the people you simply meet in passing end up on the colder side of life, but you and Dean, you just keep on chugging along. Well, I think it’s time I do something rather rash. I hope you like it Sam. It’s all for you. Oh and say ‘hi’ to Dean and Castiel for me.”

And with that, he was gone. No snap of his fingers, so sound of fluttering wings. Just there one moment and gone the next. A minute passed before Dean ran in with Cas hot on his heels.

Sam groaned. “Eileen,” he murmured weakly, begging Dean with his eyes to go check on her. 

Dean looked at Cas and the angel nodded, heading off towards the bathroom while Dean rushed to Sam and began untying him.

“Dammit Sam, don’t you freak me out like that. What happened? Who was it? How much do you hurt Sammy? Is Eileen okay? Do we have to gank anyone?”

Endless questions ran from his lips as he checked over his little brother. The area around Sam’s shoulder wound was covered with blood and pus, but other than that he seemed unharmed. So he searched Sam’s eyes for the answers.

“It was Chuck.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. _Dammit_. He thought. 

“What did he want?”

Though he was now untied, Sam was too tired to stand. Chuck’s words circling in his head. 

“I… I think we wanted to close the wound. He said, well he said my hope was keeping it open.” Sam chuckled dryly. “Obviously he must’ve been wrong.”

Dean frowned now. “I don’t know Sam, this is Chuck, _God_ , we’re talking about. I don’t think he would give up that easy.” 

Sam knew he was right, but his own worries were forgotten as Cas led Eileen from the bathroom, Sam’s blood still staining her fingers.

“She appears to be unhurt,” Cas reported, leading her gently with his hand. “Just upset. How are you Sam?”

“Fine Cas, just my shoulder.” 

Cas seemed disappointed that he couldn’t help. He had already tried healing the supernatural wound to no avail. 

“Cas, can you take Eileen home? I’ve got Sam.”

Cas nodded again and gestured for Eileen to follow him out of the rundown casino. Soon it was just Sam and Dean. 

The eldest Winchester spoke quietly, his voice a carefully crafted calm edged with near panic.

“What did Chuck say exactly Sam?”

Sam stared into his brother’s green eyes, barely able to contain his own fear.

“That he’s done being subtle.” He stood, legs wobbling and leaning heavily on his brother. “This isn’t over Dean.”

Now 

It had been two days since Sam had been captured by Chuck and tortured. Eileen had left, apologizing and telling him to call if he ever needed back-up, thanked him for their time together. But Sam knew she was terrified, traumatized maybe. He knew what it felt like to watch your hands hurt against your will. He still remembered Steve Wandell. 

He wasn’t going to call her anytime soon, for back-up or otherwise. She was probably better off not getting involved with the Winchesters anyway. Chuck may have been a dick, but he was right about one thing: everyone around them got hurt.

So now he was here, in the Bunker again, looking for information that didn’t exist. Again. Cas was in the library, doing the same and Dean, well Dean was probably in the war room with a cold beer and too much on his mind.

Sam sighed and shut the book with a bang, rubbing his eyes. 

_Hope_ , he almost laughed. _Why can’t Chuck just kill us now and get it over with_ ? He wanted it to stop, had for a long time, but the hits just kept coming. _He’s not going to kill us_ , Sam realized solemnly. _Not until we give us his ending_.

He stood, exhausted and defeated, and wondered what Chuck could possibly throw at him next.

He was going to check on Dean when he heard a loud knock on the Bunker’s door. Which was strange because it was an isolated bunker in the middle of Kansas and their enemies weren’t really the knocking type.

_Hunter_ , he assumed. But what hunter knew where they lived? If it was someone they knew, why hadn’t they called?

He headed to the war room and saw Dean heading up the iron steps to the door. He must’ve come to the same conclusion as Sam and assumed that the Bunker’s warding would keep out any unwanted guests regardless of the door being open. 

Sam sat at the large table and began playing with one of the red rings scattered on its surface. Whoever it was, they would find out soon enough. 

He couldn’t see Dean as he opened the door, but he heard the groaning creak of it’s hinges. _I should fix that sometime_ , he thought absentmindedly.

Dean should’ve said something by now. Sam tensed, wondering if his brother was in trouble. What if it was a monster? Some nightmare creation thought up by Chuck to keep them busy while he hatched his plans.

“Dean?” He called out cautiously, hand now gripping the angel blade he kept concealed in his jacket. “Who is it?”

There was no answer, but the unmistakable sound of a body falling and being caught. He heard Dean’s grunt. He made to run up the stairs when he heard his brother finally call down the stairs.

“Don’t come up Sam! I’m fine, just get Cas for me okay?” His brother seemed strained, like he was holding something heavy.

“Are you sure Dean? I can help…”

“I’m sure Sammy. Just get Cas for me. Oh and if you could make lunch that would be great.”

Sam knew that him making lunch was just a distraction from whatever Dean was dealing with. He cursed under his breath, _Damn stubborn brothers_. But after all this time, his own stubbornness had paled under the trust he had for Dean. Whoever was at the door, Dean obviously needed Cas, not Sam.

Sam tried not to delve too deep into how often Dean _needed_ Cas. Instead, he stowed the angel blade and headed off to the library to grab his friend. Dean would tell him soon, they had too much experience keeping secrets from each other, secrets that always blew up in their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know where you guys want this to go! :)


	3. Dead is always Temporary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is starting to wonder if he'll ever have a normal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry!

As Dean held the unconscious form of an unmistakable Jessica Moore in his arms, he wondered for the nth time what his life had come to.

He knew Sam had heard Jess fall and him catch her, and he also knew there was just no way he was letting his little brother see this right now. Not after everything they had been through in the last few days.

He told Sam to get Cas and make lunch. Hopefully, Cas would be able to tell if it was really Jess and if she was hurt and making lunch would keep Sam in the kitchen and away from wherever Dean would put her to wake up.

He groaned and ran his free hand down his face, the other supporting the weight of a girl he saw die over fifteen years ago.

It was just not his day.

Cas came up the stairs carrying an angel blade. 

“Dean, who’s…” He trailed off as he saw the girl in Dean’s arms. All Dean offered was a shrug and grimace in return.

“Cas I just need you to make sure she’s human, and how much she’s hurt okay?”

Like always, Cas just nodded and went about his task. Weird and unexplainable things were like the Winchester’s bread and butter. Castiel assumed whoever this girl was, that Dean knew her, as he settled her very gently on the ground before once again closing the Bunker door.

Cas ran his hand over her body without touching her before reporting to Dean who just sat there, a concerned expression on his face.

“She is human as far as I can tell. There were some small cuts and bruises from what looked like exposure to the wilderness outside, but she was otherwise unharmed. I have healed those small injuries.”

Dean nodded, looking at the girl thoughtfully.

“Thanks Cas. Help me carry her downstairs? One of the empty guest rooms.”

Nodding again, Castiel lifted the girl from around her shoulders as Dean gripped and raised her legs. They worked together to get her down the stairs, Dean constantly checking the stairs behind him although he almost knew them by heart by now. 

He put his finger to his lips as they passed the kitchen, sounds of pots being moved and cabinets being opened telling him that Sam was doing as Dean asked. Cas furrowed his brow at Dean’s direction but complied, lightening his steps as they carried Jess past the doorway.

Eventually they got to an empty bedroom, far down the hallway from Dean and Sam’s rooms. Besides the plain bed and clear desk, it was completely empty. With one, slow motion, Dean and Cas laid her on the bed so that her head lay on the center of the pillow. Dean was too tired and stressed to mess with the covers, so he just took her arms and crossed them over her chest as softly as he could.

Dean could almost feel Cas’ eyes boring into the back of his head. He rubbed his temples.

“What is it Cas?”

“You know this girl, Dean. And you don’t want Sam to see her.”

_ Oh _ , Dean groaned internally.  _ Straight to the point like always then _ . He turned around to face his best friend, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. 

“Yeah Cas, I do. And no, I don’t want Sam to know. Not yet anyway.”

“Who is she?”

“What, they didn’t give you a de-briefing on our backstory when they sent you to prep us for the Apocalypse, Cas?” He knew he was being short, fuck he was being straight up rude. But  _this_ , of all things. He needed something strong to drink.

Fortunately, Cas didn’t seem offended by Dean’s remark. He just repeated his question.

“Who is she Dean?”

It took a moment for Dean to reply. After all, he had a lot to process. “Her name is Jessica Moore,” he finally said, glancing back at her prone form. “She was Sam’s girlfriend at Stanford 15 years ago. He left with me on a hunt and she was killed by a demon.”

But Dean knew that was a poor man’s version of the story. He left out so much, like how she had died in the same way as Mary, how Sam had blamed himself because her death was the beginning of his visions, how the whole thing was a part of that damned plan all along. He shut his eyes and saw himself drag Sam out of his apartment, out of the fire again. He saw Sam murmuring and screaming her name in his sleep and then, more recently.

_ “I still think about Jess,” _ he had said. The kid had been through hell more than once and he was still haunted by that night.  _ No _ , Dean thought.  _ No way is he seeing this now _ .

Cas was looking at him again.

“Just, don’t tell him yet Cas. I know him, he won’t be able to handle it.”

“He’s stronger than you think Dean.”

“Dammit, I know that Cas!” He ran his hand through his hair, almost pulling it out. “But this, fuck this might be too much for me.” He sighed and placed his hand on Cas’ shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “Promise you won’t tell Sam. Just stay in here and watch her, tell me if she wakes up.”

Cas nodded. It seemed like all he did nowadays. But he trusted Dean, trusted that he knew Sam better than anyone. And he knew by looking at Dean’s haunted expression every time he looked at the girl, Jessica, that he was probably right about Sam.

“Of course Dean.”

Dean huffed with relief and wrapped the angel in a firm embrace, patting his back before releasing him.

“Thanks Cas. I know I can count on you.” With that, Dean patted him on the shoulder once more and left the room.

Cas locked the door behind him, dragging the desk chair over to the side of the bed and beginning his secret vigil.


	4. Pasta....Salad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica wakes up with questions. Sam cooks with questions. Castiel answers questions, but has questions himself, and Dean just wants food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am most proud of my summary today.

When she opened her eyes at last, she was greeted with an unfamiliar face.

She gasped and sat up so fast it nearly made her head spin, but the man sitting beside her bed didn’t even flinch. She scanned him cautiously. He didn’t seem all too threatening with his tousled black hair and pure blue eyes. He was staring at her with curiosity, which was strangely comforting.

“Who, who are you?” She gulped, voice cracking. “Where am I?” She asked, just noticing the very plain room she appeared to be in. Besides the man she was alone, wearing the same clothes and not tied down clearly. She brought her hand up to her cheek only to feel the scratches and bruises she knew she had gotten from her trek through the trees all gone.

“I have healed your wounds Jessica. You don’t have to be afraid, you’re safe here.”

The man had a strange tilt to his voice, stilted almost. She frowned at him. She wasn’t really scared of him, but she certainly didn’t trust anyone she didn’t know when she was in a situation that most people would’ve been panicking at by now.  _ Well, I did faint _ , she reasoned. She must have imagined the man who looked like Dean Winchester and the voice that sounded too much like Sam’s.

“Who are you?” She asked again, clearing her throat.

“My name is Castiel.” He smiled. Yeah, she wasn’t scared of him. But that didn’t answer her very pressing questions.

“Ok Castiel, where am I exactly?” 

“You’re in room 32a of the Men of Letters Bunker in Lebanon Kansas, Jessica.”

“How do you know my name? Have I met you before?”

“No. Dean told me who you were.”

She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth.

“Dean? As in Dean Winchester?” Her voice trembled. What she saw and heard earlier… no, she must be dreaming.

“Your heart rate is elevated. Are you alright?”

She looked into his eyes. He seemed sincere, concerned even.  _ What in the hell is happening _ ?

“Castiel,” she took a deep breath before continuing. “Why am I here?”

He just shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid I have no idea.”

She shut her eyes.  _ Maybe _ , she thought frantically,  _ I can make myself wake up. Yeah. Okay Jess, just wake up. You’re still in your apartment, Sam is coming home soon. You were probably reading something that had things like a man named Castiel and some sort of bunker in Kansas recently, and it made its way into your subconscious. Now all you have to do is  _ **_wake up_ ** _! _

“I should go get Dean, he’ll want to know you’re awake.” The gravelly voice came again.  _ Okay, _ she thought.  _ That didn’t really work _ .

She opened her eyes and watched as he stood up to leave. She grabbed the sleeve of his tan trenchcoat, suddenly terrified.

“Wait! Before you leave, what’s the date? Please?”

He paused for a moment. “Today is November third.” He peeled her hand off his sleeve. “I should get Dean. You rest.”

Somehow his answer did nothing to soothe her rising panic. November third… she had gone to bed on the second. Could it only have been one day? The sick feeling in her gut wouldn’t go away. Castiel was hiding something.

She watched him leave and heard the door lock behind him. She closed her eyes again and laid back, her fingers twisting into the fabric of the bed covers.

Technically, a few of her questions had been answered. But with what? That she was in Kansas in some bunker? That it was November third? That Dean was here? No, that just freaked her out more.

God she hoped this was just some really weird, long lucid dream.

Cas hoped desperately that he had said the right things. He knew Dean didn’t want Sam to know she was here, but he didn’t know what Dean wanted her to know. If she had died 15 years ago, he reasoned, she would probably be ‘freaked out’ if he told her the full date. So he had omitted some of the truth. Dean would know what to say. He headed off to the kitchen.

Sam heard Dean enter the kitchen. He still didn’t know who had been at the door or why Dean had asked for Cas’ help instead of his own. 

_ Just a hunter _ , he mused as he cooked the pasta.  _ Probably too injured to call. Dean needed Cas to heal them with what was left of his Grace. Needed me to make lunch and act normal. _

His personal reasoning was halted as Dean came up behind him, pulling out a package of hot dogs and plopping two into the microwave.

“So… watch’ya cookin’ Sammy?” He asked casually, taking the package of buns from the cabinet and unwrapping it.

Oh, so they weren’t going to talk right away.  _ It’s fine _ , Sam told himself. They had agreed after all they had been through, that keeping secrets and refusing to disclose all their information was generally a bad idea. It had ended in nothing but tragedy and death every time. Dean knew that, and he would tell him as soon as he could.

“Pasta salad,” he replied, his expression not registering the internal debate he went through.

They made food in silence for a few more minutes before Sam couldn’t take it. But he wasn’t going to breach something Dean was clearly not comfortable with yet, so he decided to go in with a bit more class.

“Where’s Cas?” Alright, well maybe not as subtle as he had been planning. It had that effect. Dean grimaced before schooling his features into disinterest.

“He’s uh, well Sam…” He closed his eyes and breathed in. “The person at the door was injured, they fainted. He’s watching over them now.”

Alright, that made sense. But who was it? Sam didn’t miss Dean using a gender neutral pronoun nor the fact that he didn’t mention how the mysterious visitor was wounded and how. He’d just have to dig a bit deeper.

“Hunter?”

“N… not really, no.”

“Someone we know then?”

Dean had his hot dog in his hand, but didn’t eat it. Instead just looked at Sam with deep concern. This was how some of their conversations just went, and Sam knew what was next, he knew the familiar words by heart.

“You OK Sam?”

Many years ago, before the end of the world, before God and Angels and Hell, that question would’ve only been asked to assess injuries. Broken bones, deep cuts, concussions. ‘Chick flick moments’ were to be avoided at all costs, and a Winchester’s mental well-being had to be put aside for the hunt, for the people that needed saving. Sam didn’t know when exactly that changed, but now they both knew that they couldn’t save anyone if they weren’t all there. It had been a lesson hard learned.

Still though, there was that voice in the back of his head. He knew it must’ve been in Dean’s too, a voice that sounded eerily similar to that of John Winchester’s. 

_ It doesn’t matter, you’re fine. Get on with it _ . 

Sam ignored it, trying to self-diagnose. Was he really okay? His encounter with Chuck had shook him for sure, but the physical torture was nothing to him. He could handle whatever it was Chuck threw at them next. Hell, he had beaten Lucifer, he had survived the Wall and so much more. 

“Yeah,” He answered. And a part of him really believed it. “Yeah Dean, I think I’m fine actually.”

Dean gave him a look that clearly communicated,  _ I call bullshit, none of us is really fine _ , and so Sam continued.

“I mean, sure, Chuck did a number on me. But he didn’t kill me, and if we trust what he was saying, the fact that this wound is still on my shoulder means I still have hope. Yeah, we have no idea what he’s planning and we have no clue what to do next,” and he smiled as Dean snorted, taking a huge bite of the hot dog. “But we’ll figure it out. We thought we’d never defeat Lilith, then Lucifer and Michael. And man, we kicked all of their asses. I believe in us Dean. I’ll be alright.”

Dean swallowed his giant bite before grinning proudly at his little brother.

“Fine then, ya big galoot. Finish up that pasta would you? I’m starving.”

“You just had a hot dog, and there’s another on your plate!”

“Eh, I’m a growing boy.”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. Before he could retort, Cas stepped nervously into the room. His blue eyes flashed from Sam to Dean, his posture tense and uncomfortable.

“Hey Cas, what’s up?” Sam had a suspicion that Cas’ awkward behavior had something to do with their mysterious guest once again.

“I… I need to talk to Dean.” 

Sam was about to argue, say that Cas could tell him too, when Dean spoke up from the table.

“Sam’s fine Cas. She’s awake?”

Castiel’s eyes met Sam’s before he replied.

“Yes.”

“Alright. Give me a minute, I need to talk to Sam and then I’ll talk to her. Don’t say anything until I get there. I really don’t want to freak her out with a bunch of stuff at once.”

“I already told her she was in the Men of Letter’s bunker and that you were here. She asked the date too. I omitted the year.”

Dean sighed. “That should be ok, she’s probably freaked to hell anyway. Go ahead Cas, I’ll be right behind you.”

Sam had stayed quiet through their exchange trying to pick up context on the visitor. So it was a girl, and she was freaked out. Cas knew not to tell her the year…

Cas leaving snapped him out of his head, and he turned to Dean for answers. Dean just stared at the tabletop and his uneaten hot dog.

“Who’s here Dean?” It was a quiet, poignant question, and the weight of it seemed to push down Dean’s shoulders.

“Sam, please just understand, you can’t see her. Not yet. If the sight of me might send her into shock, I doubt you barging in will help any. If I tell you, you have to promise to stay here, and stay calm.”

It was a difficult promise, and it terrified him. But he had to trust Dean. Him and Cas were all Sam had left. So he nodded, and waited for Dean to answer his question.

There was a pregnant pause before Dean looked him into the eyes, stood, and placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“It’s Jess, Sam. Jessica is alive.”


	5. 15 years too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess is finally getting some answers.

Jess heard the door open, and sat up to see the man from earlier re-enter the room. She wanted to scream and beg him to tell her everything, but she kept her mouth shut and just glared at him instead.

He didn’t sit down in the chair like she expected, and instead stood by the still open door, shifting on his feet and refusing to meet her eyes.

She barely registered that she could run if she wanted. Something told her the man wouldn’t really stand in her way. 

Finally, she saw him. 

The man that looked like the Dean she had seen before, just much older. Her breath caught in her throat. His seemed to as well as he met her eyes.

“Hey Jess, long time no see.”

It was a humorless joke, and none of them laughed. Jess just stared, no longer unwilling to speak, but unable.

“De-Dean?” Maybe the man in front of her was a relative, a Dean senior maybe, not the mid-twenty something that had grinned and flirted at her in her apartment only a few nights ago. 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Her heart felt like it dropped from her chest into her stomach, making her nauseous. A small, strangled groan came from her lips.

He walked towards her slowly, with his hands in the air, eyeing her like she was some sort of frightened animal. The other man, Castiel, stayed by the door and watched the scene unfold. Dean searched her face for consent before he gingerly sat at the edge of the bed. Jess didn’t move from her position, curled up with her back against the wall.

His voice was quiet, and his eyes were focused solely on her expression as he asked: “Jess, I need you to tell me what you remember.”

For a moment she said nothing, staring at her knees.

Dean leaned forward, till he was close, but not quite touching her.

"Jess?" He asked again.

"I...um, I woke up in this clearing. I saw something through the trees and walked here."

"What about before that, before you woke up?"

She met his eyes, and saw her confusion matched.

"I had baked cookies and gotten ready for bed, Brady came by, but that's it. It's… sort of fuzzy."

Dean sighed, and looked over to Castiel, who was still standing by the door.

"Cas, go check on Sam will you?"

Her heart leapt even as Castiel left. Dean was more or less a stranger to her, but Sam…

"Sam, is he…"

"Sam's fine Jess."

"Can I see him?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea… for either of you."

Jessica gripped the sheets tighter in her fists, terrified and angry. 

"Why not?"

Although she already had a thought as to why. The entire situation was confusing as hell, but she was just waiting and hoping for Dean to explain something.

He must've seen the desperation in her eyes, because he placed his hand gently over hers and opened his mouth to speak.

For a second he just sat there in uncomfortable silence, before a ghost of a smile brushed past the corners of his eyes.

"Well I'd tell you to sit down…"

"Dean," it felt odd saying his name like that, but she needed answers. "Tell me, please."

"It's been 15 years. Jess, it's 2020."

She knew she should've been more surprised, but her body reacted before her brain. She felt her heart begin to race, and a chill ran down her spine like cold water. It made sense in a strange way, how Dean looked. But how could she be here?

"How?" Was all her mouth managed, and even then it was no more than a slight whisper.

"You died."

And her brain finally got hitched onto the full-blown panic train. Even as Dean continued, voice rushing out, black spots crawled in the corner of her vision.

"There was a fire in your apartment, 15 years ago yesterday. Sam came home and found it. He made it out but… it was too late. He felt so guilty Jess, he missed you so much. I'm, I'm sorry."

Somewhere she registered that he was rubbing her back, making small circles with his hand. She focused on the feeling, shutting her eyes against the onslaught of emotions that came with the news of your death.

The feeling stopped too soon, and she found herself missing the warmth and comfort.

For a few minutes they just sat there on the bed, Jess gripping her shins for dear life and Dean hovering anxiously.

She made sure her breath stopped catching in her throat before she spoke again, face still hidden between her knees.

"But, he's ok?"

Dean smiled. He hadn't known Jessica beyond their one brief meeting, but he could see now why Sam had loved her. Even faced with an insane circumstance, she was asking how he was. Shaking his head, he just patted her hand.

"He's fine, and he'll come to see you soon."

He waited for her acknowledgment of his words before continuing.

"I'm gonna go, but leave the door open. You can yell if you need anything, I'll be just down the hall."

She nodded from behind her legs and Dean stood to leave.

"Someone will come check on you soon." 

Before he left he looked back one more time. Jess hadn't moved, but he could tell by the slight shake of her shoulders that she was crying. He bit his lip. It wasn't fair that this had happened, and he cursed Chuck in his mind, (because of course he was behind this).

"I'm sorry Jess."

And he left, because he had nothing more to say.

Cas was waiting outside the door, looking worried.

Dean groaned and leaned against the wall, too exhausted to acknowledge his friend at the moment. Cas, knowing him well, didn't say anything until Dean finally looked him in the eyes and spoke.

"Sam, Cas." 

"He went for a drive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally know what I'm gonna do with this story! (Yay!!)   
> Hopefully this means I'll get chapters out quicker.  
> Though I'm writing on my phone now because my computer broke....


	6. Fire and Brimstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes for a drive.   
> The fire follows him.  
> The past haunts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! Hopefully I get the rest of them out sooner, they probably won't be as long as this one.   
> Also, really hope ya'll like flashbacks, because I sure do!

Sam had a lot of ways to clear his mind: Reading, researching, organizing, and lately he was getting into ping pong. Unfortunately, all of those activities were done in the bunker that currently housed his dead girlfriend, so he went for a drive.

He didn't take the impala, he knew better than that. That car was made for him and his brother, with Sam riding shotgun. He never really thought to drive it when he had other options. His car was one that he had been working on for a while, his free time project ever since they had started living in the bunker. 

He wasn't much of a mechanic, never achieved the clarity of mind that Dean seemed to find under a hood, but he had the know-how enough to fix almost anything.

The old Ford was actually the youngest car in the garage (besides the Impala), a 1961. It didn't take much to get it running, and if working with his hands didn't give him peace, knowing he could actually fix something…

He sighed and pressed on the gas. The highway was empty as the sun went down, and he could see the last orange rays lighting up the bumps in the asphalt. It almost looked like tongues of fire eating up the road in front of him.

Winchesters and fire didn’t get along. Sam turned on the headlights.

16 Years Ago

“You know, asking me a hundred times isn’t guaranteed to change my answer.”

“Don’t be a square, Sam.”

“No one says that.”

Brady blew air through his lips and shrugged, hands barely holding on to the can of cheap beer he had nearly finished. Sam was sitting at his tiny desk, legs crumpled under it, and working on his laptop. Brady had been trying to convince Sam to go to this party for nearly a week, saying it wasn’t natural to be holed up in a dorm studying. Of course, it was entirely normal for Sam. The only difference was the content: Supreme Court Cases vs. Obituaries.

But Brady had been angling towards the party scene ever since winter break, and was trying his best to drag Sam along. It’s not as if he didn’t want to go, like some of his classmates, who detested the atmosphere of parties. No, Sam just wasn’t that interested. He had had his fill of alcohol and angst before he was fourteen.

“Come on!” Brady whined, as Sam started yet another assignment. “That’s not even due till Friday!”

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Seriously Sam, there’s this girl I want you to meet. Smoking hot, pre-med, and a TA for Ms. Sanchez. You’ll love her!”

“I don’t need to woo the TA for English Brady, I have an A in that class.”

“Dude, you gotta see this chick.”

Truth be told, it was probably the fact that his friend in that moment had sounded so much like Dean that he decided to go. Though he hated the hunting lifestyle, there was an empty feeling he got in his chest sometimes; When he passed classic cars, or saw someone hustling pool or flirting with a waitress. He didn’t miss the life, but he missed Dean.

“Fine. But I’m the DD.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way Sammy.”

\-----

His first thought was that she was probably out of his league. Her blond curls spilled over her shoulders, and her red crew neck made her blue eyes sparkle in the low lights of the frat house. She was standing by the mini bar with a few other girls, her friends he assumed. 

Brady was blazing a trail through the lethargic crowd, heading straight for her, Sam following behind. Before Sam could stop him, tell him to leave well enough alone, they were at the bar, and she was looking up at him with a tiny, dimpled smile.

“Hey Jess,” Brady began, obviously a little tipsy already. “Remember that pre-law kid I was telling you about?” He gestured loosely to Sam. “This is him!”

She laughed, small and quiet before nodding at her friends, who dispersed into the crowd, drinks in hand. Sam felt himself unconsciously blushing beneath her gaze.

“I’m Jess. But Brady probably already mentioned that.”

“No yeah, he did.” Sam sent the man behind him an amused glare. Brady got it after a second and stumbled away with a scoff.

She laughed again, and this time Sam joined in. It was hard not to when her whole face seemed filled with light despite the dimness surrounding them.

\-----

“So, this is our second date but you still haven’t told me why you chose pre-law of all things?”

Sam chuckled. “Why do you wanna know? Trying to analyze me for your psych class again?” He joked.

“Nah,” She said with a wink, “As much as I’d like to know all your secrets Winchester, I’ll settle for a simple answer to your career choice.”

“Well, it’s not that simple. Kind of a long story actually.”

“If I’m right, and I’m always right, we have plenty of time. Another year and then a few more of grad school. I’m sure you’ll be able to fit a story or two in somewhere.”

“Alright. I told you I grew up sort of on the road,” She nodded and he continued. “Well my family and I, we tried our best to make the world a better place. And I respected that mission, I still do. But, the way my dad went about it…” She placed her hand over his as he paused and he grinned, feeling open and vulnerable and whole, something he hadn’t felt since he left his brother’s side. “I just wanted to do it my way. To serve justice and, you know, help people.”

“Well Sam,” She said, moving her hand so it lifted his off the table, making it possible to intertwine their fingers. “That’s a very noble reason.”

He raised an eyebrow, it looked like she was holding back laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“Honestly? I thought you were just gonna say ‘money’.”

They both burst out laughing, making the students in the booths around them shake their heads, and the waitress roll her eyes from behind the counter.

“What about you? I mean doctors are paid pretty well,” He said, mostly holding off the residual giggles.

“Actually, I’m going into family practice.”

“Really?”

“I mean, it’s sad but, there really aren’t that many people these days willing to work the kind of grueling hours required in shorter staffed, lower budget clinics, especially when the pay is half what any surgeon would make. It just never felt fair. All those kids who need it more, all those people with barely enough resources as it is. Well I guess I just want to do something to fix it, even if it’s just an extra pair of hands forty hours a week.”

He smiled. “And you said I was noble.”

She put her other hand on his cheek. There was something in the way she seemed to stare past all his walls, all his cracks and scars and nervous glances. The way he skirted around his past and his family and everyone else. She looked straight through it, not even trying to dig. She just saw him.

“I guess we’re both heroes Sam Winchester.”

\-----

She felt him before she saw him.

“Jesus, Sam!” She gasped as the large shape barreled into her, wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her clear off the floor.

It was a few seconds before she was let back on her own two feet, but he still didn’t let go of the grip on her arms.

“What happened?” His tone was matter-of-fact, but from the light of their living room lamp she could see his brow furrowed and his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I’m fine, really! I just missed the bus,” She put her hand on his arm and could feel him trembling beneath her touch. “What’s wrong?”

His voice was quiet and barely controlled when he replied. 

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Sam, my phone died and there wasn’t exactly a pay phone around. It’s only been two hours, nothing happened.”

He buried his face in the hair on the top of her head and took a long, shaky breath. He murmured something that she could only just make out, though she realized his words weren’t meant for her.

“Can’t lose you.”

He didn’t break contact with her for the rest of the night, holding her hand or brushing her shoulder with his. When she looked away she felt his eyes tracking her movement, as if he expected her to collapse or disappear.

After they went to bed, and sometime around 4am, she felt him get up. She watched through heavy lidded eyes as he emptied their salt shaker, and made a thin line across the bottom of the doorframe, just under the mat.

\-----

Sam’s mind flickered in and out of unconsciousness like sleep was a deep and turbulent ocean and he was constantly coming up for air. He could feel the unfamiliar lightness of the cheap and scratchy motel sheets on his body, smell the barely concealed whiffs of cigarette smoke and beer, hear his brother shift in his sleep.

There was a heaviness pressing down on his chest, that spread like tranquilizer down his arms and legs, pinning him where he lay. He was awake, but he didn’t open his eyes.

They felt singed, blackened and hot, like the fire had found a home behind his lids. Some part of it had to have followed him, because he felt it eating away at his insides. It was slow. Burning through him, melting his organs and deadening his nerves until he was nothing but a walking corpse fueled only by the rekindled embers of old anger.

Anger at the world, his father, the creature that had taken everything from him. His heart became a great dam, letting out only the emotions that would keep him alive, on his toes and fighting. But he knew there were deep terrors behind it. Feelings that if he let free, would crush him completely.

Sam had always liked to pray. It made him feel like he had purpose, some measure of control in the ever-changing enigma that was his world. He had prayed to escape hunting, to get a full ride, and every night for over a year he had prayed that what he was doing would be enough to keep Jess safe. That his mere existence wouldn’t place a target on her back and fire an arrow. Those prayers were filled with hope, a chance at a normal life with the woman he loved. Maybe he should’ve known better. Maybe he should’ve stopped praying and stayed to protect her. Maybe he should have listened to the dreams that hallowed out his soul and left him feeling more terrified than he had ever felt.

But now, he was empty. A puppet pulled along by invisible strings that yelled at him to take revenge, to seek justice, to destroy.

Dean grunted and rolled over and Sam wished more than anything that right then he could be his brother. Driven without doubt, certain without conflict, the perfect hunter.

He dug his fingernails into his palms and prayed. Prayed with all of the anger and hate and fury that kept him upright. He was going to find what did this, and he was going to kill it.

Now

Even as he pulled back into the Bunker’s garage, he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. 

Dean had texted him, saying she was awake, and she wanted to talk to him. That she was waiting in the library.

How he could face her… that was a different story. After all these years, everything he had learned about her death, everything he had done since, what he had become. Guilt was as ingrained in a Winchester’s psyche as a splinter was in skin. 

The nightmare of Jess’ death still made appearances in the myriad of torments he endured each night. Seeing her again…

Doing was easier than thinking. So he turned off the car and walked in. He tried to focus on his breathing, his heart rate, the temperature, anything but the impossible task before him.

Cas was waiting just outside the library, pacing back and forth. He looked up when Sam appeared from around the corner.

“Hey Cas. Is Dean…”

“In there with her, yes.” 

Sam gulped and nodded, refusing to meet the angel’s concerned gaze.

“Sam, are you sure…”

“Yeah, I am. I can’t hold this off, it’d be cruel and unnecessary.” Finally, he looked down at his friend. “I can do this Cas.”

Castiel smiled and gestured to the door.

“I know Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand still no reunion! I know, riots up and down the streets. Don't worry, all will be revealed next chapter!  
> (Thanks again for the Kudos and Comments!)

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more chapters! But I do this in my limited free time (I work full-time and have school after soooo) I'll try and update consistently, or at least quickly until I get it all out. (Aka milk this plot until it dies)  
> Again, kudos and comments are always welcome! (even [especially] if you hate it lol)


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